


Everything You've Come To Expect

by FinalSilhouetteMuppet (orphan_account)



Category: Indie Music RPF, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Drabble Collection, Follows vague chronological order, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Miles' perspective, POV Second Person, Referenced Alcohol Use, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/FinalSilhouetteMuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles based around the on-going story behind the music videos released so far for EYCTE. Promised to the daughter of a powerful man, Miles is instead drawn to the wild energy of Alex. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Habits

The grass is cool but you are ablaze in the rush of smoke as you ride through the high and scream into the night sky. 

You have never met this man before, yet in the second it takes you to blink he has grasped your clammy hands in his drier own and is spinning you round and round and round until you collapse in a breathless heap. 

This bed is not yours. The jungle of limbs writhe and grab around you, pulsing in time to the ever-present beat. Your eyes are still full of smoke. Your hands are cold. You do not know how long you have been clutching that bottle for but you pour its contents into your mouth, over your chest, on your head. He laughs at you from across the bed and you find your own jaw moving too, laughing again and again until it aches. 

You are lightning in your mind as you race to the stairs. Smoke curls from six identical lips. Where did your shirt go?

His arm is around your neck, sweating and solid, or perhaps it is your own arm thrown across your chest, grasping at your dried out flesh. He stumbles over your legs and you run away from your own blue halo. You can still hear the music throbbing through your brain. This time it is you who grabs his hands as you dance wildly to the rhythm of your own pounding hearts. 

You will dance until the world turns upside down. 

It has been midnight for hours. The house is still alive with screams and sweat and hazy lights, deafening to all but you two. He does not seem to hear the noise, lost in his own head and the moonlight glinting off your bottle, and you realise that the rest of the world has forgotten you. A flash of light illuminates his pupils, shrinking and unfocused in the scarlet light, and you know in that instant that you will not draw another breath without thinking of him.


	2. Miracle Aligner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Miracle Aligner' is such an odd and dreamlike music video that it seemed, to me at least, to represent the idyllic state of their relationship/affair/whatever is going on before the grittier and final events of 'Aviation' and 'EYCTE'. It's almost as if it's showing how lost in each other they are before they are suddenly and painfully brought back down to earth. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

Petals float and settle around you as you move in unison. Not a word is spoken. His eyes roam the room but yours roam his face, searching for any flaw that would prove that he is real. There is nothing that would mar him but the furrows in his brow and that ridiculously ‘v’ of a widow’s peak that could only have been carved into his hairline. It’s sharp enough to cut you. 

You can tell it’s just a dream because it is just you and him in a room full of people and for once none are looking at you with that blinding eagerness that permeates each face you see from your usual position on the stage. 

Is he mirroring your movements or do you mirror his? You can no longer tell. His form matches yours with an intensity that betrays longing; at least you hope for it with every strand of your soul. Not a word has been spoken but you communicate how you always have done, via a look, a lingering parting of the lips, a brush of the hand that sears a line into your skin. 

You first met her in a hall not unlike this one, wearing a borrowed suit that did not fit and sweating off the heavy metallic taste of the previous night’s overindulgence. You were sure she could see your nervous veins under the mask of your rough tan but she smiled and laughed and you pretended to meet her eyes as you smiled back. The curve of her hips did not make your pulse race even then. You kissed her cheek, of course. What other choice did you have? 

You are promised to another but your heart is promised to his and this time you are the one pushing all thoughts of her out of your head as his lips meet your neck with a heat that spreads throughout your already trembling form. 

He pulls and pushes you down and you don’t resist, how could you resist when this is what you’ve been dreaming for since the moment your hands first met across the crowded floor? This is a dream, you know it is only a dream but you don’t care. You cling to his ephemeral form while you still can because who knows what chances will be left in the soft lilac hour of the morning? Get down on your knees, get down on your knees again, as he lowers your body to the floor and melds it, unresisting, through the floorboards and into the earth below. 

Go and get ‘em, tiger.


End file.
